Guilt
by Deandra
Summary: Eomer dwells on thoughts of his deceased cousin. ONESHOT. Part 31 of the Elfwine Chronicles.


**_Part 31 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes._**

A/N: This was inspired by Chapter 15 of "Love Comes Softly" by Sache8 (if you haven't read it, I encourage you to do so – it's on my Favorites page). Though the circumstances surrounding this event are vastly different in her story, I thought it would make a good Chronicle, even though at this point, Elfwine is not yet even a glimmer in their eyes! (He comes in soon after this.)

Credit is due Julia, who DID correctly guess Alliances as being the story preceding Homage. While I didn't see her review with the answer before I posted it in Handful, it was in my inbox before the message saying Handful was up, so she did get her guess in under the wire.

**Guilt **

**(Jul, 3020 III)**

Eomer sat rubbing his chin thoughtfully, the Golden Hall of Meduseld spread at his feet before the King's throne. His eyes were dark and his expression somber, though neither really had anything to do with the scene in front of him. He did not look up when someone entered the room, not even noticing the sound of the door or the footsteps moving toward him, so he was startled when the soft voice of his bride broke his reverie.

"What troubles you, my love?"

He glanced up and met her eyes, giving a heavy sigh. How to explain his thoughts, his sorrow, so soon after their marriage when he should have been blissfully happy. The truth be known, he _was_ blissfully happy, largely as the result of the woman standing near him, but…

In less than a fortnight, it would be the one year anniversary of Theoden's funeral. It still seemed unreal to Eomer that he was now King, rather than his uncle or cousin, and as he had been contemplating that, the sorrow had come. Why was he the one blessed with peace in the land, a beautiful wife and, someday, children? Did not these joys belong to Theodred instead of him? But how could he explain feeling guilty about being happy?

Lothiriel stood waiting for him to respond, and at length he asked, "Will you ride with me? I have a trip I wish to make and I would like you to come along. It will take several days for the journey."

Lothiriel nodded, though her eyes narrowed, wondering what was the cause for this sudden request. As Eomer did not seem inclined to elaborate, she did not press him. "Of course, my love. I would be happy to accompany you."

Feeling he should better prepare her, he added, "We will be sleeping outside, so bring warm clothing. The nights can be cold."

"When will we leave?" she asked.

He stood abruptly. "Tomorrow morning." He knew she wondered at his strange behavior, but he could not yet explain it to her, so he moved to embrace her, pulling her close and resting his cheek on the top of her head reassuringly. They stood that way for several minutes before Gamling entered and cleared his throat discreetly.

As he pulled back, Eomer saw the love and support shining in her eyes. Explanation or not, she trusted him completely, and he could not repress a grin of pleasure at the knowledge of that.

xxxxx

The two days of travel thus far had been pleasant, and Eomer was enjoying being out from behind a desk and away from advisers that seemed to trouble him constantly over the most trivial of matters. And to have Lothiriel at his side made the pleasure even greater. Still, this morning was different. They would reach their destination by mid-day, and the nearer they drew, the more his mood darkened. He felt Lothiriel glance at him several times, but still she did not press him for answers or explanations of his strange behavior.

He stopped short of their goal and suggested an early dinner, though he was not particularly inclined to eat. He did not want the others to go hungry on his account. The meal progressed quickly and mostly in silence. Several of the men in the escort had discerned their destination, and they too had sobered and fallen deep into their own thoughts.

When they remounted and set out again, Lothiriel asked quietly, "Where are we going?" She had not missed the mood that had come over nearly the entire group.

"The Fords of Isen," was Eomer's brief response.

Lothiriel asked nothing more, considering this information, and trying to remember why that place sounded familiar to her. A short time later, as they entered the water and waded toward an island in the middle of the river, she saw the circle of spears set round about a mound. Suddenly it came back to her where she had heard of the Fords of Isen before – Theodred. So this was the cause of her husband's despondency.

She rode beside him in silence, asking no questions. She knew he would speak when he was ready. As they pulled to a halt a respectful distance away, the few murmurs among the men dissipated, and there was stillness broken only by the sounds of the Isen flowing by and the wind in the trees. Even the birds seemed hushed in reverence of the hallowed ground.

As Eomer slowly dismounted, Lothiriel followed suit, but did not crowd him in his thoughts. They moved slowly toward the burial mound until Eomer came to a stop near a spear with a helm on it – Theodred's helm. Slowly he reached up and took it down, polishing it against his clothes and then replacing it. Then once again he was lost to his thoughts.

After a few moments, Lothiriel moved forward and slipped her hand into his. He did not look at her, but she felt the slight squeeze he gave her hand in acknowledgement of her presence. Again she waited, then laid her head against his arm and asked softly, "What troubles you, my love?" Somehow she knew it was more than just sorrow over Theodred's death.

Searching for the words to convey his feelings, Eomer cleared his throat, then attempted, "I…I…Theodred should be sitting on Rohan's throne, not me. Theodred should be happily married to a good woman with the prospect of children, of heirs. What right do I have to take his place, to have those blessings instead of him?"

To his surprise, her answer was not what he expected, "You do not have the right to take those things away from Theodred." He looked at her, startled, but she continued, "But you did _not_ take them. Saruman took his life and his future. You only have the responsibility to fill his place, to serve in his stead. I cannot imagine he would begrudge you happiness in doing so. He would want you to be happy; he would delight in your marriage and any children that may come. You may honor him with your sorrow at his loss, but do not think yourself unworthy simply because it would have been his if he lived. Had that been so, you would have served him faithfully as your King. Honor his memory with your service and know that he would be smiling on you, glad for your joy, and that of Eowyn as well."

Convulsively, Eomer pulled her into his arms and wept into her shoulder. And as the tears flowed, so did the tension and guilt he had been feeling ebb from him also. She was right. Theodred – his cousin, his brother – would not wish him to be unhappy. He would be pleased that Man had prevailed over evil and that Rohan had survived. He would be glad that Eomer and Eowyn still lived to carry on their family and guide their people.

Unintentionally, he smiled. There had been few occasions for smiles and laughter in the years preceding Theodred's death, but he could well remember the sound of Theodred chortling as he teased Eomer about something or other. How he would tease him now if he knew Eomer had been standing here feeling guilty. He would have slapped Eomer heartily on the back and declared, "You need a tankard of ale, cousin! You are far too serious!"

Pulling back, Eomer wiped at his face with a bit of embarrassment, and smiled at his wife. Lovingly, she reached her hand up to stroke his cheek, and then pulled him to her in a kiss. When they broke apart, she wrapped her arms around his waist and he moved his own around her shoulders.

He gazed at the burial mound one last time, and then murmured softly to her, "Let's go home."

THE END

**_End note: It is not essential that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written, but there is an advantage to doing so. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order (#15 came after #17, I think), but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content. _**


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